for [ profile] hisoldgirl

She knows what you’re doing.

She knew the moment you came in the door. She knew as you stood at the console, staring at a blank spot and contemplating your own death. She knew.

“No,” you had said, and you pulled a lever, sending yourself and her elsewhere. Anywhere. Somewhere that wasn’t your current fate. Somewhere that would keep you alive and safe.

Because when it comes down to it, that’s what you were convinced you were doing.

But she knows better.

She sees the recklessness of your actions. She waits patiently as you run from adventure to adventure, spinning faster and faster like a toy on its last bit of wind-up. You’re burning yourself up like you would burn up a star to say goodbye.

You tell her that you’re living as much as you can before you go.

She tells you that you’re not really going. You’re only changing, and you’ve changed before.

You may be fooling yourself, but you’re not fooling her. She’s known you too long.

You’re terrified, petrified of what’s going to take you out. This incarnation is too stubborn, too selfish, to self-bloody-righteous to just let something else take you out. You’re going to burn, and you’re going to be the one to do it.

She knows this.

She can’t stop you.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 218

Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away
If you can use some exotic booze
There's a bar in far Bombay
Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

"What the hell drink was that?"

"Pan galactic gargleblaster. Delicious, aren't they? Get you a bit intoxicated after a few, of course."

"And are you?"

"Am I what?"


"Probably." When he says probably, he attempts to lean casually against the side of the TARDIS and ends up slipping, very nearly falling flat on his fact.

She laughs, at least. But she's been keeping up with him and the number of drinks he's had, so she's probably just as far gone as he is, if not worse. Once he straightens up, she leans over and presses a kiss to his mouth.

"What was that for?" he asks.

"I wanted to see if I liked it," she replies, smoothly. Her voice is high and tinny, but still sounds smooth and seductive.

"And what did you decide?"

"I don't know yet." She leans in again and kisses him more firmly. He responds this time, though it's hardly his best kiss. He's far too intoxicated for it to even really be a decent kiss, but when she pulls back, she looks pleased.

"It's even better when you help," she says.

He smiles. "You should use that some day, Betty."

She nods to the blue box. "You gonna invite me in?"

He wants to. He's just intoxicated enough and she's attractive enough that it seems like a good idea. But he can't, he knows he can't. He makes a face.


"You've got a wife waiting for you?"

He looks at the TARDIS and can practically feel the rage rippling off of her. She does not appreciate being a support to him or her while they snog. "Something like that."

"I don't mind wives, you know. Never stopped me before."

"And it probably won't in the future."

She smirks and slips out of her heels in order to walk home. "If you need me Steve, you just whistle."

He has no idea where she got the impression his name is 'Steve', but he still grins stupidly after her as she walks away. He fumbles with the key to the TARDIS and pushes the doors open. Inside, he can definitely feel the irritation of his ship, far stronger than just out of the doors. He can imagine if she was humanoid, she'd be standing there, holding a rolling pin and glaring. As it is, the room is stuffy and hot with her temper.

"She's gone, you don't have to be this way." He tosses his coat to one of the columns and it misses completely. He sighs and half-stumbles towards his bedroom. The walls are ice cold from irritation and he pats the coral.

"You know I wouldn't bring her here. I've got far too much respect for you." His words are slurred from the alcohol, but he's absolutely convinced of them.

The emotional pressure at the back of his mind is really unconvinced of his words.

"I don't know why you're so jealous," he says, tugging off his tie and shirt once he gets to his bedroom. There are a few lipstick stains on his collar and he makes a face. "A little jealous, maybe. But not this jealous."

She huffs again and the floor is icy cold once he kicks off his trainers.

"I always come back to you, you know," he says, dropping back onto the bed. The covers are warm, at least. She knows he needs to feel safe when he sleeps, and she doesn't deny him that.

If she were a woman, though, he imagines she'd be sighing with exasperation.

"We'll go somewhere tomorrow," he promises. "Gatritico! Or Niamar 5! Lovely worlds, no population. It'll just be the two of us, TARDIS. We'll get away from it all."

He feels no pressure of emotion against the back of his mind, and he imagines that's her way of saying she'll think about it.

He curls up under the covers (having completely forgotten about his trousers, socks, or the fact that he hasn't taken a shower) and closes his eyes, the drunken suptor turning quickly to drunken slumber.

"I love you, TARDIS," he mumbles. Even when sober, she's the only being in the universe he can say that to without incredible difficulty. They've been together too long, they know each other too well. He loves her even when she sends him to the wrong planet and she loves him even when he snogs humans.

He feels a gentle, comforting pressure, and he imagines she's bemusedly replying the same thing.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 747
Use of Lauren Bacall not authorized by Lauren Bacall.


The Psychiatrist: Women. You get to talk about women.
Thomas Crown: Oh, I enjoy women.
The Psychiatrist: Enjoyment isn't intimacy.
Thomas Crown: And intimacy isn't necessarily enjoyment.
The Psychiatrist: How would you know? Has it occurred to you that you have a problem with trust?
Thomas Crown: I trust myself implicitly.
The Psychiatrist: But can other people trust you?
Thomas Crown: Oh, you mean society at large?
The Psychiatrist: I mean women, Mr.Crown.
Thomas Crown: Yes, a woman could trust me.
The Psychiatrist: Good. Under what extraordinary circumstances would you allow that to happen?
Thomas Crown: A woman could trust me as long as her interests didn't run too contrary to my own.
- The Thomas Crown Affair


He loved her, once.

He remembers the emotion, even if he no longer possesses the ability to feel the emotion. He remembers long nights and deep sadness and companionship and other ridiculous sensations such as those and he remembers her warmth. He remembers her comfort.

It's funny, but even as he walks down the darkened street towards her (where he left her oh, so long ago), he feels a strange pang. A longing for the comforts of home. Were he the sort to indulge in such ridiculousness, he might even term it as homesickness. But he is not that sort of a man.

He hasn't been that sort of a man in a very, very long time. Cut for sexual innuendo, non-consent, disturbing imagery, and character death. )

Muse: The Doctor (The Valeyard)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,604
Partner: The TARDIS (canon)
written for the evil [ profile] brigadiertardis, special thanks to [ profile] salvagestime for the beta!
"It's brilliant!" the Doctor said excitedly, hopping from beneath the console with a wild grin. "Something I haven't seen in, well, since all the TARDISes died out in the Time War! You know, it's not the sort of thing I'd have imagined in such good con---"

He stopped mid-ramble and looked around the empty console room. Right. Right, of course.

More quietly, to the TARDIS, he continued. "But! If you're going to use one of these things, you should really make sure it's in the best condition, am I right? Of course I'm right! Heard far too many stories of TARDISes ending up with space viruses otherwise."

The inner console glowed warily, but the Doctor waved his hand. "Oh, nothing to worry about. I've already scanned it through twelve different testers. This is in top condition and should work perfectly once I've got it uploaded."

He paused. This was the point where any human companion would've asked 'Well, what is it, Doctor?' It was a natural thing, waiting for this sort of a response. Clearly, it had been too long since he'd traveled with someone. Or, perhaps, not long enough.

"Well, best load it up, then." He pressed a few keys, and the new program he'd acquired on his last landing zone shimmered into life on the TARDIS screen.

It was what the universal program dealers on Cenauri Delta called an 'app'. Which the Doctor could've only assumed meant 'TARDIS application program'. But! Such TARDIS apps were very rare, especially because a) there weren't any TARDISes left but the Doctor's, and b) the type 40 was an obsolete model. But, as he passed the vendors, there it was. A clip with an app on it! Brilliant! It didn't really matter what was on the app, as long as it worked.

He felt a sudden, strange sense of worry. This was the point where a companion would tell him it wasn't a good idea to upload something he didn't trust, wasn't it? Well, he'd have brushed them off then, too.

"Now Loading," a mechanical voice informed him. A tiny blue icon with a cloud on it appeared in the upper right corner of the TARDIS monitor. In swirly Gallifreyan font it said "Weather Satellite".

Brilliant!' he said, gleefully. 'A weather app!' )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,169
No apologies to G1. Your Weather Channel app is terrible.
Title: Everyone Has Someone (An And So It Goes Remix)
Author: [ profile] rude_not_ginger
Characters/Pairings: Ten/TARDIS, Jack/Ianto, Martha/Tom
Rating: PG
Summary: The Doctor, Jack, and Martha talk about the Year That Never Was with their respective partners.
Word Count: 2,045
Original Story: by Galadriel 1010
Notes: Special thanks to my wonderful beta <3

It's only just ended. The long, horrible year. )
TARDIS capabilities at 20%

You can feel your ship's pain.

It is part of you. It sinks under your skin, it permeates every cell of your being until you are her pain. Every part of you hurts. Your hands shake as you try to reconnect wires and seal up damaged systems.

Somewhere, under the pain, you can feel a layer of betrayal. Not to her, the one who damaged your ship, but for you, for allowing her on board. For leaving her alone. For trusting her, when you were warned. You should've known, but you didn't want to, and now there's nothing but pain.

You should've known. You just should've known. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,678
Based on RP in [ profile] realityshifted with [ profile] shatteredqueen and others.
Follows this.

Things begin and end.

It's the way of the universe.

It's the end, now. It should feel like a beginning, but it doesn't.

This is worse than exile.

With exile, there is always a hope of freedom. A chance. A glimmer. At best, escape. At worst, forgiveness. But the result is the same. That universal vortex. That promise of an eternity of travel.

But not now.

When you stop walking, you're not far off of Glasgow. Largest city in Scotland, third largest in the United Kingdom. The air is heavy with cold you can't feel and the people are cheerfully bustling around in a manner you can't imitate. It is raining. The concrete is wet and hard and there are strange smells from new foods and automobiles and life all around you. It's a place you've loved to explore in the past, to take in the sights.

But you can't possibly think about that, now. Now, it's about necessity. This city is part of your survival. You must become a creature of survival. Why? Because she wouldn't want you to die. Even though it doesn't feel worth it right now. Not to go on living, not without her.

To survive, for her. You're cold and wet. You need shelter. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,650
Companion to this amazing story by [ profile] brigadiertardis.

Everybody knows that everybody dies.

Everybody except you.

You've seen them come and you've seen them go. Your companions, your lovers, your family. They move on or they get old and they die and you find a place deep inside your time ship to hide and just remind yourself that it's out there and you're safe within the TARDIS's walls.

You're never truly alone as long as you have her. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,111
Inspired by this photo prompt.
How to deal with death is at least as important as how to deal with life. -Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan

Rifts close and rifts open. It happens.

When the Doctor finds himself in the area of a rift opening, he usually re-directs the TARDIS over to see what's happened. With companion in tow, they find adventure, help out, and make an afternoon of it. He remembers sitting on a crystal mountain with Donna, watching the sky blaze orange as the rift over Grea Sentra closed. They'd just finished talking peace with rift-traveling aliens and the native creatures. It was a good day.

But he's alone now. When he gets the blip on the monitor of rift activity in the Gamma Quadrant, he hesitates. No matter what's out there, he is the only one who will see it.

Still, something to do. He's fallen into a rut of taking bits of the TARDIS engine apart, cleaning them, and putting them back together. One cannot live on engine maintenance alone. Certainly not the Doctor.

He twists the dials on the console and steers the TARDIS towards a desolate, broken world. Lifeless, or very nearly. Except for a sudden, strong blip of life. Human life. He tugs on a pair of oversized goggles and ventures out into the blasting winds of the dark world.

"Hello?" he calls over the roar of the wind. "Hello?"

There's no response at first, and he thinks that maybe no one was in the rift. Or if they were, they were too injured to survive. Then he hears it. )

The stars, that nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps with everlasting oil, give due light to the misled and lonely traveller.
-John Milton

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 2,569
You know how when you're listening to music playing from another room? And you're singing along because it's a tune that you really love? When a door closes or a train passes so you can't hear the music anymore, but you sing along anyway... then, no matter how much time passes, when you hear the music again you're still in exact same time with it. That's what it's like.
- Music From Another Room

We sing the song of the universe together.

When we met, you were an ember, coiling hot and tight. Desperate for release, desperate to run. Get away. Be free. One cool, the other hot, we stabilize each other. Complete each other. A time ship and a traveler, a maniac and a mediator, vessel and visionary. We need each other.

Shoot across the galaxies, see worlds and skies and feel strange soil beneath us. We take companions (they are ours), but they're always so temporary. They find other lives, other worlds. Permanent things that fluid moving creatures like us can't understand. We want more. We sleep in the hum of each other's embrace and ride on the waves of each other's excitement.

Together, we burn like starfire. Cut for spoilers to 4.13 'Journey's End'. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 803
It's a sort of dance, actually.

She's always been a bit of a tease. Cut for innuendo. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 277
Aka: Why the TARDIS is better than a regular female partner.

This is possibly the most misogynistic thing I have ever written and for that I apologize in advance. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 423
She usually slept very deeply while on the TARDIS. The first week she stayed on board, the natural hum of the engines and vibration of the ship bothered her. After that, it was almost like a lullaby, like her mother's white-noise meditation tapes. The motion of the ship was almost like a cradle rocking.

Their sudden absence made her blink awake. The TARDIS was perfectly still and completely quiet. The TARDIS wasn't in flight, which usually meant they'd landed somewhere.


That usually meant they'd landed!

She leapt from her bed and tugged on a pair of jeans and a top. There was no way she was sleeping through a new place and there was no way she was going to let the Doctor run off without her! He was always doing that; not telling her things and running off and doing things without her. It was enough to make a girl think she wasn't wanted. She didn't like thinking that.

The lights in the hallway as Martha headed towards the console were off. Even with her red leather jacket on, it was still cold throughout the corridors. The TARDIS wasn't just sitting there, parked. It seemed almost as if the TARDIS was off.

She was used to it being darker, even a little colder, at night. The TARDIS, Martha figured, worked along the Doctor's limited sleep schedule. That whole symbiotic thing he mentioned once. But this was more than just a sleepy TARDIS. What could it be? The Doctor would've woken her if something went wrong. Exotic messages and trips to Metabilis Three? Oh, she could sleep through those. But if the TARDIS was about to go out, well, he'd have told her.

"Doctor!" she called. He had to be in the console room. Had to be trying to put life back into the TARDIS, yeah?

No, no. There was light coming from inside the console. Very faint, but it was definitely there. But the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. Not even his feet poking out from the grates.

"Doctor?" There was no response, except perhaps the temperature of the room dropping very slightly. Martha tugged her jacket tighter around her and headed for the door. It was open just a bit, and while there was mostly darkness outside, she could see a few very faint lights. They looked like…

Table lamps. In fact, they were table lamps, lined up along a display in what appeared to be a furniture store. Martha stepped out onto the plush carpet and looked around in confusion. The TARDIS was parked in the display room of a furniture store. As a matter of fact, it looked like the furniture store two blocks over from her flat, where she bought her desk.

Well, that was disappointing. She was hoping for a furniture store in the future, at least. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,879
Part One and Part Two

The TARDIS had to eat something.

If someone had told the Doctor that a few days ago, he would've either laughed or taken the ship over a crack in the rift for a refuel. Instead, there he was, sitting across from a thin girl with golden eyes as he tried to tempt her with a plate of chips.

"It looks disgusting," she said. He could tell from the twist in his stomach that she was hungry but the concept of eating didn't make any sense to her.

"No, see, it's good." He popped a chip in his mouth and it was good, but he could feel she didn't agree.

"You are grinding it with your teeth into mash and then swallowing it all mashed up. That's going to digest and turn partially into energy and partially into waste. It is inefficient."

Well, that put a little damper on his appetite. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom:Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,242
"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
- William Butler Yeats, "He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"

Following this ficlet.

She dreams of starfire.

Twisted, burning portals of worlds and universes, and the blur of a swirling vortex of time and space. She has never dreamed like this before, and the experience is both comforting and terrifying.

She sleeps, and he can not. It's a strange experience, considering he has always slept within her when she was not as she is. Now, she dreams as she lies in his arms, wrapped up within his trench coat. He can feel her dreams; feel the euphoria of imagining she is still a police box with a labyrinth within. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,108
Love is patient; love is kind. Love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things. King James version of the Bible - 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

You wait. You've been waiting from the moment of your birthing. You wait for someone to step into your shiny white rooms and live within you. To tell you where to go. To show you the stars. This is the nature of the Time And Relative Dimensions In Space machine. You have never wanted anything else.

He will arrive. He will sneak into the birthing chambers and visit you many times. The first few will be quiet curiosity: Is it you? Are you to be my TARDIS? You will have never heard that anagram before, but it will be said so lovingly that you won't wish to be called anything but that ever again. He will stroke the sides of your console and will talk to you about what places he wants to take you both.

He will be far too young. His eyes will shine with a strange sort of longing, something you will never have seen in another Time Lord before. He will curl up beneath the stairs deep within your hull and will tell you about his past, about why he is so frightened that he will never be able to travel within you. You shall hear his words, if perhaps not understand them, and your walls will curl towards him, longing to embrace the man within, to show him that there is nothing more you desire than for him to be your captain, to travel the universe within you.

You will love him. Completely and utterly, with an almost maternal longing. You will wish to make him happy, you will want to show him the universe, help him right the wrongs that he says are there. Are always, always there. He will sleep in one of your rooms, and the room will be warmer for you, keeping him safe.

He will leave, as he always does, to go back to his studying, to go back to learning what he needs to know to become worthy in the eyes of his peers to have you. You are lonely and cold, but you will wait. You would wait an eternity for him, because you love him. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,035
Special thanks for the idea from [ profile] shaman_x here.
1. The Doctor doesn't remember most of his own secrets. He chalks it up to old age and after 900-odd years traveling in space and time, age is easy to blame. The truth is, he doesn't remember because he can't bear to. There's so much that would drag him down if he let it.

2. He's not really 900 years old. He's closer to 1400, but with all the time-crossing, human-changing, exiled moments, he figures he can just estimate and round down. It's not as if 900 is any less impressive or intimidating to anyone he might tell.

3. Romana would know his age. That's the only reason he doesn't miss her, actually. She'd give him away in a heartbeat. She was always so good at that. Frustrating and endearing all at the same time, that was Romana. She was one of his forced companions---one he didn't really want to travel with, and yet when she left, it broke his hearts. He never talks about how much it hurts him, but the TARDIS knows.

4. He always takes the companions home to meet the TARDIS before he invites them on board. The TARDIS was always a better judge of people than he was, and she would always let him know when it didn't think someone was a good fit.

5. Of course, she thought Rose was going to be a terrible fit, and he ignored her. She was more than just a pretty face and blonde hair (which the TARDIS figured would only cause trouble). He thought that Rose would grow on them both and she would help them open up to new people. The TARDIS thought she'd be a menace and steal him away. He was right, and the TARDIS was wrong. It's probably the only time the TARDIS was wrong.

6. The TARDIS regrets being wrong. It should've given her the benefit of the doubt, it thinks. Should've spent more time simply enjoying her company rather than setting off alarm bells in the Doctor's mind. It shouldn’t have mattered if the Doctor fell in love with her, the TARDIS should've just let it happen, it believes. The Doctor, however, can't blame anyone but himself for what didn't happen with Rose.

7. The Doctor refuses to let himself fall into regret. Over anything, actually. It's too easy after everything he's been through. He focuses, instead, on fixing his TARDIS. Showing her that he's not going anywhere, that he still cares. She can feel his pain and he wants her to feel comfort. His human companions are often neglected during these dark moments.

8. He does, on occasion, let himself remember. His eyes grow wet and his hearts clench up, but he never goes so far as to actually cry or let his emotions take over. Too much at stake. When he goes so far as to remember in front of his companion, Martha's hand will slip into his. Every time, he thanks the TARDIS for suggesting he take her along.

9. But Martha leaves him, too. She kisses him on the cheek and tells him that her family needs her and she's gone gone gone. He stares at the door and watches her go. All he wants to do is beg for her to come back.

10. She won't, of course. Because, in the end, the Doctor has to be alone. It's his most painful secret, but it's one he can't make himself forget.

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 576
Your favorite possession has climbed to the top of the Empire State Building and is threatening to jump. Talk your beloved item out of jumping by expressing your love and letting it know why it's so important to you.

"Stay back!"

The Doctor's hand raises up, as if to reach out to the being on the ledge, but stops. He looks over the edge and takes a steadying breath. It's a long way down. )

Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 1,187


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The Doctor


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